~Happy Pills~

So I went to see my psychiatrist yesterday. My husband had to go with me. My anxiety has gotten so bad, I am unable to go anywhere alone, without feeling anxious. I immediately start getting short of breath, my hands and face get all sweaty, I start shaking and then I’m convinced everyone knows something’s wrong with me. I feel everyone looking at me. Sometimes I even hear them laughing. It’s pretty bad. I know.
I did not want to see the doctor. I hate having to be on medication. I hate talking about my feelings or how I’m doing. I hate not being normal. Why is everything so damn difficult for me? Why do I have to take 5 prescriptions just to feel ok?
I am so glad my husband was there. He makes me follow through and actually talked to the doctor about whats really going on with me. Which made it impossible for me to come up with any stories to get out of whatever he wanted to prescribe. He made sure i got the meds i needed, and held my hand the whole time. I couldn’t do it alone. I was trying so hard to get out of going but since my husband was going, I had to go. You cant fake a flat tire if someones with you. lol.
For all the curious readers the almighty psychiatrist has prescribed the following meds: Wellbutrin 200 mg 1 tab twice a day, Celexa 10mg 1 tab once a day, both of those for depression. I am also on Trileptal 300mg 3 tabs at bedtime for a mood stabilizer and busbar 15mg 1 tab twice a day and Ativan 1 mg 1 tab up to 3 times a day as needed. Both of those for anxiety. I am being compliant this time. I am taking my meds.
According to the almighty psychiatrist himself,  I should start feeling pretty good in a few weeks. For the meantime, I’m depressed, and I am pissed.

~Why there was a second time~

After leaving the hospital my life just kept getting worse. I thought things were bad before but couldn’t even prepare myself for the following events. Its all really hazy I was going through some major rapid cycling and have a hard time recalling everything, but this is what I do remember.
     The first place I went was back home feeling rather cocky and still not caring what I put my family through. Part of me wondered if they even noticed or cared that I was missing. They did. My Dad was about to file a missing persons report and my sister and cousin had spent the whole time searching for me. Even harassing my friends and Facebook contacts for info. Then I started feeling bad for adding all this extra stress to everyone, but I cant ever do anything right and instead of apologizing to my sister and cousin I just ignored them and acted like I didn’t care.
  *My Dad is gay and has been in a relationship with my step-dad for as long as I can remember. They are both equally fathers to me. I usually call them both dad. I am just referring to them as dad and step dad so its easier to follow*

     Shortly after being home I get a phone call from my step dad, he sounded really short of breath. I have never heard him like that. He told me he was being admitted to the hospital and he was worried couldn’t get a hold of my dad. He was being admitted for emergency heart surgery. He had to have a quadruple bypass.
    I remember needing to get to Portland as fast as I could. My sister and I threw whatever we could in the car and frantically drove, not really talking to each other, speeding the whole way from Eugene to Portland
     I remember needing to be there not wanting my dad to have to go through this alone. I knew he was going to be a wreck, i was so scared he wasn’t going to make it. Everyone depends on my step dad so much what would our family do without him?He survived. My dad was a wreck. He didn’t leave the hospital, my sister and I kept having to run to their house and get him stuff. Which I was more than happy to do, because I wasnt ready to go back and see my step dad I didn’t think I could handle seeing him like that.
I kept having flash backs of when my mom died, the Chaplin at the hospital came out and asked if we wanted to say good bye? Or spend time with her body. Not really thinking about it I agreed. I don’t really know what I expected to see, but when I went back there and seen her gray lifeless body on a gurney i froze out of shock, and then just started balling. That is the last memory I have if my mother.
So I was afraid of what I was going to see when I went in my step dads room. Not to mention the stress from my little disappearing act, when I admitted myself to the hospital and didn’t tell anyone where I was, I’m sure contributed to his heart attack. So I was feeling pretty guilty.
It really fucks with your head seeing your parents, the people who have always taken care of you so vulnerable. It was really quite sad, I had never seen my dad that way. He seemed really anxious, scared, very depressed and almost childlike.I really think if my step dad didn’t survive my dad would have died right there in the waiting room.
When I was unable to put it off any longer I went back and seen him. Everyone kept telling me he looked so much better today than he did yesterday so I figured I could handle it. When I seen him, I immediately thought thank god I didn’t see him the day before because I could barely recognize him. His color was off, and he looked really weak. I thought he looked sick. It was pretty overwhelming. I had to hold back tears I didn’t want to upset him.
The amazing thing about my step dad is he is the most loving, caring, person I know. He loves people unconditionally.No pretending to care on his part, he really cares. I think this is a pretty rare trait, and I’m damn lucky he’s my dad. So, as he is laying there recovering from a near death experience, he tells me he loves me and he was worried about me. I couldn’t believe it he almost dies and he still worried about me. I didn’t deserve it.
At the hospital, Step dad still recovering, my sister ended up having to go to the ER with a headache. She ended up having meningitis and could no longer be around my step dad, while he was recovering, so her husband (still having his issues) had to come pick her up.
I don’t remember how long I stayed but I know I was mad she left. I felt abandoned; like I was left to take care of everything and I wasn’t strong enough to be a support for anyone.
So i decided I would contact my dads other daughter ( he didnt raise her,& doesn’t really have a relationship with her) I have only met her once when I was 16, but I was desperate and needed someone. I had nobody to lean on. So I tried making her feel guilty for not being here. After some pretty heated back and forth e-mails she was willing to fly up from California. By now I had calmed down a little and told my dad what I did he said she didn’t need to fly here, so I let her know it wasn’t necessary. Besides what would it have accomplished really? I contacted her because i felt i needed someone to help me get through it and i dont really know her. Shes not a part of the family, not really. She has never really seemed interested. Never been any real effort on her part to get to know anyone. So once again I caused a bunch of unnecessary drama/stress for everyone.
When I make it back to Eugene, I wasn’t going back to that house I shared with my sister. I decided I was going to convince my husband I wanted to work shit out. Just long enough to find a place for me and the kids to go. This should work.he always takes me back.
Things once again didnt go my way. He didn’t want me back. He said he was happy being single. I didn’t believe it. He always wants me.I’m supposed to be the one who doesn’t want him. I leave him, and cheat on him and hes always going to be there, that’s our pattern. That’s the way its always been.Not this time.
He let me stay with him “temporarily” I started moving stuff in anyways because I refused to believe him. We were even sleeping together, he claimed he wasnt sleeping with anyone else, so why would I believe him? I wanted him to want me and me not want him. I figured he was just being stubborn. Trying to teach me a lesson or something. To my surprise he was serious he thought he had moved on and really believed he was done with me.
We have a past of using meth, more details in another post, both of us had been clean for quite a while. I started suspecting he was using. He knew I wasn’t so when ever I asked him about it he denied it. I wanted to catch him. I decided telling him I wanted to get high. I figured if I did it with him then he would tell me the truth about how long he had been doing it.
B So we got high together for the first time in years. I was in love with him all over again (drug induced of course) lol.
I remember going outside with him to smoke a cigarette next thing I know some older lady I didn’t recognize started coming upstairs asking to use the bathroom. She asked me if I was my husbands room mate. Following right behind her was “someone” I did recognize. This “someone” was a friend of a family member. This “someones” children played with my children. Unaware i was there and all giggly she was hopping up the stairs saying she was here to see him because he cant answer his facebook. I cut her off with my response to the older lady’s question.The older lady was this “someones” mother. My response to her quite pissed off was “no I’m not the room mate im the wife”. That “someone” was a bit shaken up, she didn’t expect to see me there. She froze in her tracks and slowly started backing down the stairs.
Her mother was frantically apologizing. Saying that her daughter was a good person. She was told our marriage was over blah, blah, blah.
          My husband looked scared he jumped up to safely escort his girlfriend to safety. Down the stairs, away from me. I was sooo pissed I remember Yelling “Did you tell your little girlfriend we are still fucking?” among other obscenities.  I envisioned myself pushing her down the stairs. I have never wanted to hurt someone else the way I saw my self hurting her. Given more time to react,  minus her mother trying to comfort me/distract me. I would have enjoyed pushing her down the stairs. This thought was quite comforting for me throughout the next few weeks.
              I was shaking uncontrollably. I was damn near convulsing. I was hysterical, I felt so stupid. Why were people  keeping this secret from me.
          When they left, he came upstairs and was pissed off at me for causing a scene. He told me he didn’t want to work shit out and our marriage was over. He wanted me to leave. I refused to leave. I couldn’t stop crying. The pain was too strong. My family that knew what was going on,  let me move my stuff back in with my husband. They let me think it was possible to work shit out. They let me ramble on and on about how good things were going to be this time. Had I known what was  really going on, I would have been able to cope somewhat normally. Instead I was told nothing and left to suffer the ultimate smack in the face.
         He had sex with this “someone” and less than 8 hours latter, still claiming he wasn’t sleeping with anyone else, he let me give him head. When I found out I was mortified. I wanted to die. I felt so sick. All he could say was ” I lied to you because I didn’t want to hurt you. Oh, and  I didn’t cum therefore it wasn’t really sex.”  He was too drunk to get off so in his mind it didn’t count.
         I told him “lying and continuing to sleep with me hurts way more than finding out you are  fucking someone else.” Then he said “its none of your business who I’m fucking we r not together. You left me” I said “your so wrong! If your dick is going in my mouth, I’m entitled to know where it has been. and as far as  “i didnt cum so it dosnt count”
My response was “by your logic, I never cheated on you, and have only had sex with 3 guys in my life”. “Since you have to have an orgasm for it to count.” seriously some of the dumbest shit I have ever heard.
     Don’t get me wrong. By no means am I a saint. I have did some pretty nasty things to him over and over again and he remained faithful to me.  Its what needed to happen to wake me up. Nothing like some good ole’ karma to put shit in perspective.
                At this point I was well aware how I majorly fucked shit up this time. He didn’t cheat on me. I left him, he was right about that.What he did do was lie to me, a really, really big fucking lie. I had still betrayed by him. It still hurt. I didn’t know I could hurt like that.I was completely unaware feelings like that existed. I was literally in pain. I was so miserable.
         I hated myself for hurting him in the past. I could actually relate to what he felt every time I cheated on him and It disgusted me that I  hurt him that bad on more than a few occasions. I hated what he did to me. I hated how he could lie to me so easily. I hated myself for being so damn selfish; and I hated my family for not warning me.
                           I love him more than I knew. I can’t loose him. I won’t lose him.
          Besides there is no way he would want that “someone” over me. She was just cheap, non satisfying, entertainment. She was willing to take her pants off, and he was drunk. Besides he didn’t even enjoy it.
     Due to my refusal to leave. He called my sister, my dads, my aunt, my cousin and anyone he thought would be able to talk some sense into me. He wanted to get me out of his apartment.
      Where was I supposed to go? This used to be my home, used to be the place I sought comfort. Now it’s not?? I no longer had a home with my sister. Sure, I can stay with family until I get on my feet…. but, who wants that?
            I was at an all time low, nothing was right. I had lost control of everything.in my life.
My family thought I was nuts because I wanted to be with my husband. I just spent months  convincing everyone what a piece of crap he was, and how I dont love him, now all of a sudden I love him. It is kinda nutty lol.
           After I finished throwing my fit.  I agreed I needed help. So here comes my Sister to the rescue.
 I had her take me to a Portland hospital because I knew someone who worked at the hospital in town. If I went to the local hospital I wouldn’t be able to get any real help, and I really needed something.


    After pissing everyone in my family off and my failed attempt to help someone who I believed really needed it, I gave up. I had become this pathetic shell of a person there was nothing left inside of me. Emotionally, Physically, and spiritually I was defeated. I don’t know how my whole world managed to flip upside down without me noticing but,I didn’t care anymore. I was tired of caring. I was tired of being let down, and tired of being tired. So I checked myself into the hospital..
        I made sure I didn’t tell anyone where I was going, I even told the hospital staff not to let anyone know I was there. I  went as far as packing a suit case and dis rummaging through things in my room to throw them off. Pretty dramatic, I know.
      . I wanted everyone to worry. I wanted them to suffer because I was suffering. Can’t someone please make it all STOP??? I had to get away from everyone and everything. I needed to be as far away from my life as I could get..
              At the hospital, that I put myself into, I spent the whole night cuddled up to the toilet puking. Replaying the past week over and over again in my head. Only coming up for air when  my scheduled ativan dose was due. I avoided talking to anyone, or asking for help. I  knew one of the staff members.(one major draw back of working in the health industry and having a mental illness)
           This induce a little paranoia.  He was possibly still in contact with a lot of people I knew and maybe some I currently worked with. No way I wanted everyone I worked with knowing all the details of my breakdown. Seeing him made it impossible to get any real help. There was no way I would be honest about anything. Even though they say they have all these confidentiality rules, they are not enforced. I know because I have broken many myself.
         Working in healthcare, gave me a pretty good understanding, of what the therapists and doctors, need to hear before discharging  a patient. So after my meds were adjusted to my liking, I told them what they needed to hear and got the fuck out of there. I admitted myself too which made the whole process a lot simpler.

~Why there was a first time~

I have been struggling for a long time. Nobody knows what its really like. I do a good job of pretending I’m OK. Even if people suspect something is wrong they really have no fucking clue how wrong everything is. I hate talking to people about my “feelings” I don’t go see my doctor or take my meds like I should.
            I have been hospitalized twice in my life and refuse to ever go back. Here is some of my story.
                I was separated from my husband for about 3 months and was living with my sister and her family. We decided since I was going to divorce my husband we would rent a big house together. Her husband was a full time student and with us working opposite shifts we would be able to help each other out with day care. She has 2 boys and I have 2 boys and a girl all under the age of 8 at the time. The kids loved it. I was pretty happy with the arrangement too.
                    I always envied my sisters marriage, they were the type of couple who always got along. They supported each other through anything. It was defiantly them against the world. They always celebrated anniversary and each others birthdays. They did the whole date night stuff and made time for each other. Those activity’s did not exist in my marriage.
                     Her husband was somewhat antisocial the whole time I have known him, so since we were all living together I made an extra effort to get to know him. I wanted everyone to get along and be happy. To me the only way this would work is if we were all friends, and honestly I don’t think he was super excited about co-inhabiting in the first place.
        Nothing ever happens the way I think it should. They started fighting, not in front of me a whole lot.  There was constant tension in the air. My sister started getting pissy with me over little things. She seemed a lot more moodier than usual.
          One morning I got up with all the kids made breakfast, since they were both still sleeping I brought them breakfast in bed. Nice huh? Well the next morning she was working and her husband made breakfast for all the kids then brought me breakfast in bed. Shouldn’t have been a big deal considering I did the same thing for them the day before right? Wrong! When she found out she was pissed. I didn’t understand and thought she was over reacting. There was a lot of stuff she was over reacting about lately. She was accusing me and her husband of siding against her?? If we were all having a discussion and him and I happen to agree on something she didn’t, she would be pissed for days. It just didn’t make sense.

  *what nobody knew was my sisters husband told her he was having feeling for other people and I happened to be one of those other people* had I known this things would have been very different.
           Her husband started staying up late, sleeping in a room away from her watching all these documentary’s and eventually he started telling us he was a genius. At first I thought he was joking because he has always been really smart and into sciency stuff that I don’t understand but, he wasn’t joking. He seriously believed he had cracked some code that scientist have been trying to figure out for years. This kinda scared us we weren’t sure how to react so we did nothing.
          Eventually he hand writes this 4 page letter  where he said something like he wants to be a husband to both of us and I reminded him of his mom and my sister reminded him of his grandma. I don’t remember it all, none of it made sense.
           WTF? is going on?? I told my sister “hes lost it we need to get him help”. After some lengthy coercion, she was able to convince him he needed to talk to get help. She took him to the E.R. He doesn’t have health insurance, and since he wasn’t suicidal, they sent him away. They said there was nothing they could do for him. I wouldn’t believe it.  I was convinced she was down playing the issue to the doctors and sugar coating things like she has a habit of doing.
                 By this time my mania had kicked in high gear and I was determined to take care of it, despite everyone else’s opinions. I became so fixated on getting help for him that nothing else mattered. I tried taking him to the hospital myself, since nobody else could get him help, I believed I could. While we were there he kept thanking me and telling me my sister didn’t try to get him help that she didn’t care, which just fed my initial thoughts of her sugar coating everything.
          When the psychiatrist came and talked to him I had to leave the room so they could talk with him privately. I don’t know what he was telling them, but it gave me time to give the letter he wrote us, to the nurse. I  told her if the hospital lest him go, I was afraid he would kill himself, even if he wasn’t claiming to be suicidal I told her he was. It didn’t matter they were not going to help, they had to hear it from him. I was furious, and scared, and shocked that someone has to say they are suicidal before they are able to get help. Pretty fucked up system we got.


Fuck! I get sooo pissed off at people for nothing I don’t understand wtf?? I know it’s nothing too and it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t be pissed but I am!

~Giving in~

So after 2 days of wanting to give up and die, I’m ready to go back to the doctor and get medicated. Time to listen to my family. It’s pretty bad when I have had enough. lol. My husband has to hold my hand through this one, like I’m some retarded 2 year old. I can’t do anything for myself; by myself. As much as he pisses me off sometimes… he is the most supportive person in my life right now. I wonder what the doctor will put me on this time? I defiantly miss my Xanax lol

~To delete or not to delete~

I was going to delete some postings in fear of offending people but then I decided no to because that’s how I was feeling at the time I wrote it. I am doing this as a therapeutic outlet for myself. So I am going to continue to be brutally honest because where else do I get to be?

~Understand This~

There is no point. Stop trying you are waiting your breath. You will never understand me. How can you even think its possible to know how I’m feeling? Or make sense of what’s going on in my head when I don’t even understand it myself? Why don’t you go to the doctor and get your meds? I don’t understand. The help is available and your not taking it. All I can say I’d I don’t know. Sorry of that’s not good enough for you. Sorry I’m such a ficking burden just stop asking me questions and trying to figure me out. It’s just not possible. FYI your not helping.

~Can u feel it too?~

Am I alone? Am I the only one like this? I go from being numb and not caring about anything or anyone. Ready to die and give up, to oh my god life is AMAZING can you feel it too? I want to share this feeling with the world I really like feeling shit so intensely. Its almost like I’m high. I get such a rush. All my senses are intensified. I smell things, see things, taste things, and feel things like its happening for the first time. Like everything was created for my enjoyment. My emotions are so extreme. If I enjoy something I never want to stop doing it or them lol. But it can go from being really great to get the fuck away from me. If I’m pissed I am REALLY FUCKING pissed. I don’t feel better until I scream, break shit, run away, hurt myself, or god wait a minute what I really need to do is punch you in the face. Yeah punching you would defiantly make me feel better. I can’t sleep sometimes I get so fixated on shit, it replays over and over in my head. All my muscles get tense and I force myself into a ball alone in my bed away from everyone and if I’m lucky I fall asleep. If I am able to sleep that is. Sleeping is one of my favorite things to do. In my dreams I am “normal” I am able to do all the things I am too chicken shit to do in reality. Like punching you in the face. Sometimes i just wish you could see shit they way i do. Its so exhausting. I hate fighting and competing. I feel defeated. I tell you your right just to shut you up. Im done. You will never understand. Ok enough ranting for tonight I’m going to bed.

~Hospitalized aka Hell~

Imagine. You came for help. You have no rights. You are locked in. You have no privacy. You have no identity. You have no belongings. You know who you are and why you came here. For help right??? Is it really helping?? All the therapists with their oh so familiar dialog. Groups? Time to participate. Time to take your pills. Here is a new pill lets see how it works for you.You try to escape in your mind pretending to be any where but here because any where would be better than being with the people hired to help you. Remember you cant leave until they deem you “safe” so time to start pulling it together. All the smells and sounds everything you see will be forever embedded in your memory you will never escape it. 

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